


scotch on a cold evening

by TemporaryDysphoria



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Hand Jobs, Jigen's shitty self-esteem, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, angst if you squint, implied polyamory, literally just a sex scene with mild feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 14:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemporaryDysphoria/pseuds/TemporaryDysphoria
Summary: Goemon slides an arm around him and pulls him close. The action makes Jigen’s chest warm, like scotch on a cold evening.“So,” he says, into the juncture of Goemon’s neck, “you did miss me?”





	scotch on a cold evening

It has to be close to midnight when Jigen wakes with a start to the sound of the front door closing in the apartment. He shakes himself awake and listens, waiting for the tell-tale sound of footsteps. The others aren’t due back for another three days at least. He hears the soft rustle of cloth and sees a figure appear in the doorway of the bedroom. He reaches under the pillow for his revolver, the click of the safety echoing loudly in quiet room.

“Put that away Jigen.”

The curt Japanese accent surprises him, he shields his eyes as the bedside lamp is turned on with the butt of a familiar sword, “Goemon, what’re you doin’ here? Is everything alright?”

The samurai sits gracefully on the edge of the bed, smoothing the pleats in his hakama, “everything is fine. I merely,” he seemed hesitant to continue. Jigen levers himself up onto his elbows, giving his friend more room to sit. “The job is done. Lupin and Fujiko are still abroad. I wished to be here.”

Goemon looks abashed at his own straightforwardness. Jigen rubs a hand over his eyes, fuck, it was too early for the samurai to be sitting on the end of his bed making his chest feel that warm – he needs a smoke. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slings an arm casually around his, partner, lover, friend, whatever he was. The samurai sags into the motion, head falling to Jigen’s shoulder. Jigen presses a soft kiss into Goemon’s hair, ignoring the way his hands were snaking around his middle – he was going to have that smoke dammit.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, but I need a smoke – the shower is still good for hot water if you want”

Goemon hums against his neck and presses a chaste kiss to the side of Jigen’s mouth before standing and moving towards the bathroom. Jigen stretches and reaches for his lighter. He’d been smoking in bed earlier in the evening, but he figures Goemon was planning on stealing the other side of the bed now that he’s back – and he didn’t really approve of smoking indoors when there was a perfectly good balcony available. The cold night air makes him regret not putting a shirt on before he walked outside. He rubs his arms and leans over the side of the balcony – the city was pretty at night – all lit up, headlights making their way slowly home from late night parties and dances.

He quickly loses himself in thought and barely hears Goemon move up behind him. He looks down as two arms wrap around his stomach – as he feels Goemon’s chin sit delicately against his shoulder, bare chest pressed against his back.

“You miss me or somethin’ or are you just feeling particularly randy?”

The samurai digs a finger into the soft part of his stomach none too gently. He deserved that he supposed.

“I did not enjoy, not having you there.”

Jigen huffs out a laugh, “Fujiko and Lupin leave you out?”

Another poke, and a small chuckle escapes his friend, “As if that would ever happen. You know I think Fujiko might actually like me better…”

“Better not let Lupin hear you say that.”

A hand reaches up and plucks the cigarette out of Jigen’s hand. He turns his head to watch as Goemon takes a long drag, exhaling away from the gunman’s face. Goemon smoking was a sight to behold. Goemon usually was a sight to behold. He has a sharp beauty in his features that Jigen never gets tired of admiring when he is given the chance. He looks younger in his borrowed sleep pants without a shirt, hair still damp from the shower. When he catches Jigen’s gaze, Jigen feels caught. Off-balance. Old. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of such a calculating look. He doubts it.

“What is on your mind?”

Jigen takes the offered cigarette and finishes it, stubbing it out into his ashtray. He turns so he is fully facing the samurai, “You,” he says honestly.

It’s the right thing to say. Goemon looks down, dark blush spreading across his features, “Now who is the randy one?”

Jigen pulls him closer, leaning up to plant a slow kiss onto his lips. Goemon responds almost immediately, pressing into the gunman’s embrace, trying to deepen the kiss. Jigen winds a hand through the dark strands of the samurai’s hair, drinking in the quiet groans as he licks his way into Goemon’s waiting mouth.

“We should” Goemon sounds slightly breathless as he leans back briefly, “We should take this inside.”

Jigen allows himself a moment of quiet victory for getting the usually reserved Goemon to look so frazzled in such a short amount of time. There’s nothing quite like a blushing beauty to stroke an old man’s ego. He lets the samurai drag him back into the bedroom by the hand. A stumble and a fumble later, he finds himself on his back on the bed; Goemon above him, straddling his hips, sleep pants already tenting from the heated kissing. Jigen’s hands find his hips and squeeze lightly – Goemon was a coiled spring at the best of times, he didn’t want this to be over before it even starts.

He was expecting Goemon to lean down and continue what they’d started but the samurai seemed content to just sit back and look down at his partner. The intense regard makes Jigen feel nervous. He’s got very little to bring to the table compared with Goemon and he knows it all too well. From this angle there’s no denying the hard lines of Goemon’s muscular body and the shadows dance across his angular features making him look almost otherworldly, untouchable, unobtainable.

Jigen reaches up between them, searching for the bumps and ridges of scar tissue that he knows are present, to remind himself that Goemon is human too. Beautiful, godly, but human.

Something must show in his expression because a hand cups his jaw, fingers curl through his beard.

“I may have missed this.” Goemon’s voice is low and rough, Jigen feels the rumble right through his body as he speaks.

Jigen smirks, between his nervousness and the heavy tension he can’t resist the urge to try and joke, “Yeah, Fujiko’s beard doesn’t grow half as well as mine.”

Goemon’s fingers tighten in his facial hair, but the samurai is smiling, so Jigen knows he’s off the hook, “Be nice.”

“I’m lovely.” Jigen finds an old bullet wound in his shoulder, rubs his thumb across it, feeling the rise and the fall of the scar tissue. Something to focus on so he doesn’t implode from Goemon’s piercing gaze.

“You are,” Goemon murmurs, then the hand in his beard releases its grip. Fingers ghost down his jawline, down his neck and across his chest.

It’s all a little too much. Jigen reaches up and tugs Goemon down, before he has a chance to say something he’s going to regret in the light of day, “C’mere.”

He comes down willingly, until they’re stomach to stomach, chest to chest, lips to lips. His scent invades Jigen’s space, enveloping him until all he can smell is Goemon.

A roll of his hips confirms that Goemon is still just as affected as Jigen is. One strong arm holds him up, the other wanders, combing through hair, leaving warm trails across Jigen’s cheek, and down his shoulder. His own hands on Goemon’s hips feel like they should be doing something more than just gripping at hipbones. He pulls down, forcing friction. Goemon makes a low moan into his mouth that sends fire straight to Jigen’s groin.

When Goemon moves his lips away from Jigen’s to nip at an earlobe, Jigen gulps in a breath he didn’t realise he needed. He stretches his neck for Goemon to nip at on his journey down to his shoulder, but he doesn’t. He presses open mouthed kisses instead – sucks at the skin with the barest hint of teeth before moving slowly downwards.

It’s maddeningly tender, and it takes all of Jigen’s self-control to not pull the samurai back up to his mouth to kiss him absolutely senseless. To not flip them both and put an abrupt end to this slow steady teasing that Goemon apparently wants to partake in tonight.

“Do, something,” he ends up growling into the samurai’s hair after a particularly solid nip to a sensitive neck spot.

Goemon raises his head and smirks. Somehow, he still manages to look dangerous with kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair, and Jigen would be absolutely lying if he didn’t admit that that just makes him a whole lot harder.

“What do you want Jigen?” Goemon accentuates the words with a nip, a roll of his hips, and finally, a bite over Jigen’s collarbone that makes him go nearly boneless with the sudden intensity.

Jigen loops his fingers into Goemon’s pants and shoves, done with words now. He gets them mid-thigh before he takes him in hand and tugs, wrenching a grunted swear from the samurai. His mouth is covered again briefly before Goemon sits up and looks pointedly at Jigen’s own tented pants. Jigen lifts his hips as Goemon pulls the offending garments down his legs and tosses them somewhere to the side of the room before he rolls and does the same to his own.

Jigen runs a hand down Goemon’s frame appreciatively as he lays down beside him. Goemon looks at him the same way he looks at desert and damn, if that doesn’t do wonders for the old self-esteem.

A firm grip pulls Jigen close and then Goemon takes both of them in his hand, the skin on skin contact and the sudden pressure making Jigen groan. Goemon licks away the noise and slots his mouth over Jigen’s, as though he’s going to swallow every little noise the gunman makes. It might be for the best, because Jigen feels as though he’s going to drown in sensation if Goemon doesn’t speed anything up.

Cursing the samurai’s discipline, Jigen has no choice but to hang on for the ride as Goemon works them, slowly but surely towards the point of no return. He tries to thrust his hips up once, only to have the samurai’s free hand press painfully hard down on his shoulder, vetoing any further movement.

With one hand in Goemon’s hair and the other gripping his shoulder like an anchor, Jigen feels the heat build in his belly. He grunts out a warning. Goemon replies with an incoherent mumble, and attaches his mouth to Jigen’s neck, biting down only to pull away and lick at the abused skin a second later.

When Goemon raises his head to look between them, it nearly does Jigen in then and there. He desperately wants Goemon to speed up, he’s teetering dangerously on the precipice, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to beg for something twice in one night.

He grits his teeth instead and looks down to where they’re joined between Goemon’s fingers, slick now with pre-cum. He meets Goemon’s gaze, the samurai’s pupils are blown wide, breathing finally losing some of its control.

Goemon squeezes his eyes shut, Jigen hears his name moaned out from the back of his throat, and that’s what finally does him in. Goemon grinds them out throughout his orgasm, movements never stopping or slowing, even when Jigen hisses at the over stimulation. He only lets go when he too, starts to twitch in his hand, and hell, if that isn’t a vision that would have made Jigen hard all over again in seconds if he was just ten years younger.

Goemon slumps down onto his chest, completely spent. Jigen brushes his hair aside to press a kiss to the now sweaty forehead. Goemon mumbles something he doesn’t catch into his collarbone – he does catch the kiss at the end of the sentence though. It takes a few minutes for Goemon to return to the land of the coherent, although when he lifts his head, he still looks like he’s miles away.

Jigen reaches down the side of the bed, and finds the leg of someone’s pants. He pokes Goemon in the side softly, “oi, we’re gonna stick together.”

Goemon rolls off him with a groan and lets him wipe the sticky residue as much as he can before he sacrifices the pants to the corner of the room with a grunt. Bone deep tiredness hits Jigen then like a truck, as the afterglow fades away. He reaches for the sheets that had been kicked away in their tussle and pulls them up over two bodies now.

When he and Goemon sleep together they normally sleep back to back – a habit formed long ago from times when they were stuck in foxholes together for days on end. Jigen rolls onto his side, never readier for the quiet embrace of sleep. He’s almost drifting off when he feels Goemon’s hand on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back.

He finishes the turn to face the sleepy samurai. Finds himself on the receiving end of long, but chaste kiss. Goemon slides an arm around him and pulls him close. The action makes Jigen’s chest warm, like scotch on a cold evening.

“So,” he says, into the juncture of Goemon’s neck, “you did miss me?”

Goemon’s hand stills from the motions it was making along Jigen’s back. When he speaks, Jigen can feel the vibrations from his chest, can hear the smile in his voice.

“Don’t belittle me, or I will leave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs, and Goemon’s fingers start their slow walk up and down his spine once more.


End file.
